if i woke up next to you
by Masquerading with Shadows
Summary: it should've just been me and you. sam/freddie; carly/freddie.


It's raining in Seattle when Carly finally whispers _i love you _back to him, her hand in his and her lips close to his ear. Without a word, he presses his lips to hers and wraps his arms around her waist. When they break apart, she's smiling and he whispers the same three words back to her even though she knows it and he's been saying it all along.

By the time they get back to her apartment they're both soaked and laughing, and Sam's already in the foyer getting her umbrella, not bothering to have even the slightest expression on her face when they burst in.

He sees her put on a fake smile for Carly, sees her come up to him after Carly tells her to give him a hug, and it's all so distance and out of place. It's awkward as they hug, his hands not really knowing where to go and her nails digging into his shirt.

_this won't end well_, she whispers.

Freddie and Carly leave her with their hands intertwined.

.

One of them, he thinks, was always going to be left out.

They were never even, always odd, and mismatched and somehow stuck together into one big _Carly&Freddie&Sam_.

And the odd one out was always Sam.

.

It's eleven o'clock at night and the fire escape has never felt more welcoming than it is now, his feet dangling off the side. The cool breeze drifts over the golden lights laid out in front of him. He feels movement near him, turning to see golden hair. She doesn't say a word, just glances at him for a moment and turns her head back to the sky.

"Carly's too tired," she answers for him. He only nods his head in reply. He watches as her fingers trace the concrete ledge, gliding over the small cracks and staining her fingertips with dirt. She looks up suddenly, her eyes shining in the dark.

"Everybody leaves, you know," she says softly.

"Not everybody," he replies almost immediately. "Lots of people stay. And some people come back," he adds.

Sam only shakes her head.

"_Everybody_," she whispers so softly he can barely hear her.

They don't talk for the rest again, and by midnight, she's left.

.

"Things end when you don't want them to," Sam tells him just after him and Carly have started dating.

"I know," he answers. "And it's amazing that you will stay around me for more than half an hour, even when you have repeatedly said that i disgust you, just to make fun of me."

"It's amazing that you don't runaway," she replies.

He tells her to go away instead.

.

I love you, he says to Carly, and he lost track far too long ago of how many times he told her that. She smiles at him, and rests her head against his shoulder.

(And he manages to forget that she didn't say it back to him.)

.

Carly leaves a week before their ten month anniversary ( - not that he was keeping track). She leaves one note on her bedside table, the paper swirled with illegible black lines that he only just manages to make out: _i'm sorry, from Carly_.

And all Sam can say is, _i was right_.

.

He expects the world to crash down around him, for the sky to shatter and for the blue shards to rain down upon him. But it doesn't.

He thinks he may runaway, try to find Carly again - but he doesn't. Nobody leaves, and the earth keeps on spinning, and after a little while, all he can think is, _does anybody care? _

A week after she's left, it rains (of course it does, it's _Seattle_). He's at the park when it happens, trying to recreate his favourite memories with only one person, and _fuck_, it just isn't working. The sky gives a shout and breaks open, the rain pouring down on him and soaking his clothes.

He still doesn't care.

He walks back to his apartment slowly, feeling the freezing water slide down his face as he digs his hands straight into his pockets, keeping his head down and watching the rain splatter against the road, making the reflection from the headlights sparkle.

It's only when he notices black and white converse standing in front of him that he stops, looking up to see baby blue eyes without a smirk or a smile to go with them, and it all looks so wrong. She's completely soaked, her hair dripping onto her shirt.

They just stare at each other, not saying a word. Finally, he begins to walk again, feeling her at his side. They stay like that until they reach his apartment, the key cold and unfamiliar in his hand as he fumbles with the lock. It's dark in his apartment, but neither can be bothered to turn on the lights.

_you knew it was coming_, a voice whispers in his head.

He still doesn't know what to say, and apparently neither does she. So instead, when she grips his jacket in between her fists and kisses him, he feels.

Wet clothes leaving damp trails on skin, water and sweat all mixed together, damp hair turning from a dark blonde turning into brunette from behind his eyelids - _yes, no, oh god_.

.

He wakes up the following morning, and she's already dressed, her clothes wrinkled and in some places still damp. She's sitting on his window ledge, not looking at him. He can see now that almost all the clouds are gone, the sun shining through them, returning her hair to its usual golden colour.

_liar_.

She turns to look at him, opening her mouth to speak before closing it again.

"Bye," he says for her, looking down at his sheets while he does so, tracing imaginary patterns. She's gone by the time he looks up.

.

Carly sends a postcard every once in a while, the pretty pictures and the neat black handwriting not quite fitting in with everything he thought he knew about her. He knows it's really for Spencer, rather than his own deliberate heartbreak, but every time another one arrives in the mail he gets the urge to tear it up and throw it into a fire.

He shows them to Sam sometimes, usually when she's on his bed only wearing one of his larger shirts and she's smoking a cigarette, the smell wafting through the air and staining all his belongings (_just like her_). She barely looks at them, instead playing with his fraying quilt without a word. He puts them away quickly.

"It, we, _everything_, shouldn't be like this," she says one day without warning. There's a beat of silence. "Just forget it," she adds quickly.

"Carly should be here," he says, agreeing.

"_No_," she whispers so softly he can't hear her.

_(It should just be us, without the brokenness_.)

.

Carly comes back.

She knocks at his door at four thirty in the morning with mascara tracks down her flushed face, and she throws her arms around his neck and cries, god, god, i'm sorry. He doesn't say anything, doesn't ask the hundreds of questions that have been on his tongue for months now, just holds her tighter and tries to familiarise himself with her scent once again.

Everybody welcomes her back with smiles and hugs and tears, and she hugs them back and repeats the same words over and over so much that after a while they become meaningless even for him. But still, she smiles and she laughs, and she's still his Carly.

But Sam's still wary, and all Freddie can say to her is you're just jealous - and it's like he's twelve again and meeting her for the first time.

Soon after Carly comes back, Sam stops talking to him. Not like he cares.

.

_two out of three ain't bad_.

.

The night air is cold as it whips against his skin, piercing it and reminding him constantly that he shouldn't really be doing this - though for what reason, he's not sure.

He has to knock on her door five times before he finally hears heavy footsteps on the other side, the turn of a key and the whine of the door as it opens. The first thing he sees is her white face, the circles under her eyes, and the bottle of wine in her hand.

"Go away, Freddie," she says as soon as she sees him, going to close the door. He snatches her hand away from the door handle before she can.

"No," he says simply.

Without another word, she lets him in, the smell of smoke and alcohol hitting him as soon as he steps through. He walks behind her, seeing her fists clench together and her knuckles turn white as he continues to follow her, as if she's expecting him to turn around and runaway. Like it would be a blessing.

Her living room is strewn with empty bottles, the tv blaring, its making her face seem even paler and gaunter than before. She looks at him, her eyes suddenly more empty than he's ever seen them before.

"Are you ok?" He asks before he can stop himself. "It's just that, well, we haven't seen you in a couple of days, and you weren't calling us back or -"

"My mum died," she answers.

"Oh, Sam I'm," she doesn't give him time to finish before she holds up a hand and shakes her head.

"Don't," she says. "Just don't."

He doesn't know what else to do.

.

He stays with her for a week, throws away all the empty bottles and lets her yell, scream, punch him without saying a word. But then she kisses him, her taste of vodka and cigarettes mingling with his. He breaks away quickly.

"I'm leaving," he says.

(It's not like she expected any less.)

.

He doesn't talk to her on his own again, but he still goes with Carly to see her, and they both smile and bicker, just like the old days (except it's not, not since Carly ran away, not since Sam&Freddie, it never will be no matter how many times they try and re-create it).

We're all pretenders, he says to himself.

(_Maybe that's why we fit_.)

He sees Sam smile at Carly, absentmindedly hears Carly says that she'll go get them some drinks, nods his head even though he doesn't really know why. Feels Sam grab onto his arm and dig her nails in.

"_Everybody_ leaves," she says. "Including you."

.

He goes back, and finds her sitting on the pavement, looking calm and nonchalant. Without a word, he sits next to her, letting an easy silence drift between them.

"Were you scared that _I _was going to leave _you_?" she asks, her cigarette and hair seeming to glow in the midnight sky. "Is that why you left?"

"You have to actually care about the person to deliberately leave them," he answers, his voice sharp and bitter. And she wants to say that Carly must have fucking well been willing to die for him, if that's his reasoning, but she doesn't because she's tired and nicotine tastes sweeter than him anyhow.

"So why did you?" She asks again, not bothering to look up. He stays silent.

_(CarlyCarlyCarlyCarlyCarly)_

"You still came back," she says softly. But he still stays silent and she won't open her mouth again, and soon there's no more grey smoke to fill her lungs, and it's empty and she's _still _suffocating. _And when did he become so bitter_, she thinks.

"Bye, Sam," he says.

(_Since he met you._)

.

She leaves one note with one word on it,

_liar_.

.

After Sam runs away, Carly stops eating, sleeping, and _they_ just stop. She holds onto his hand too tight, kisses his mouth too roughly, and it's all too much.

"I can't, Freddie. I just can't," she says, pushing him away, her voice cracking on the end. He holds her tightly as she buries her head into his shoulder, not making a sound, not even crying.

(the next morning she's gone, just in case you hadn't already guessed.)

.

they both send him postcards, carly's filled with meaningless words that are supposed to mean forgiveness, sam only sending them for the pictures that she knows he hates.

(carly writes, _i love you_, and signs her name, and he wonders when she became the liar instead of sam.)

_it should've just been you and me_, sam writes.

he sends her a reply and isn't surprised when it gets sent back to him, telling him she's already moved on.

.

_everybody leaves. _

_

* * *

_**Disclaimer: I do not own iCarly. References to Fall Out Boy's, _I'm Like a Lawyer With the Way I'm Always Trying to Get You Off_.**

* * *

**A/N: Review/PM me if you didn't get it, like it, hate it, etc.**

**Ugh, I've forgotten how to write good stories.**


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